


Frail

by MsChievous



Series: Whump/Inktober 2019 [7]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kamoshida can die in a hole, Kamoshithead, Mishima needs a hug, Whump, not really a wilting flower Mishima???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 17:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20952335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Mishima isn't strong, or smart, or charming, but he's determined to stand up to bad people. Too bad Kamoshida's there :(





	Frail

**Author's Note:**

> hey surprise I like P5 too. Mishima is my actual son I love my annoying fluff ball

“Alright,” Kamoshida huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “After such a pitiful showing, I should be making you all keep doing that for another fucking hour, but I’m feeling generous. If you don’t impress me tomorrow with your hustle, I won’t be as merciful, understand?”

The volleyball team glanced at each other uncertainly, before a particularly brave first-year piped up, “Understood, sir!” 

“Go get cleaned up and get out of my sight,” he said. “Except you, Mishima, you need some extra work.”

The dark-haired boy glanced up, then stared at the ground. He knew this was coming, it had been more of the same for the past few days, but still. Panic twisted his stomach in knots, hammering his heart into overdrive. “Y-yes, sir!”

“Meet me in the faculty office. I wouldn’t change if I were you.”

The words unnerved Mishima, but he managed a nod.

* * *

The walk to the PE faculty office was quick and silent thanks mostly to the fact that it was past dinnertime and most other students were done with their extracurriculars. Lucky them. He stopped in front of the sliding door, fist hovering uncertainty in front of it. He could- he could just leave. Kamoshida was expelling him in, like, 10 days anyway. He could just stop going to school, drop off the grid-

“I can hear you waiting out there,” Kamoshida’s voice sent a thrill of panic down Mishima’s spine, “don’t make me come get you.”

The threat forced Mishima into action, and he opened the door and stepped swiftly inside. “I-I’m sorry, I-”

Kamoshida silenced him with a wave. “I don’t care about your excuses. You’re here to make up for your performance at practice today. Your blocking form is utterly atrocious. To be fair, you’re just awful at everything, but you can’t block everything with your face.”

The words stirred up the painful memory of the pep rally. He still didn’t quite remember what happened after he’d gotten pegged with Kamoshida’s spike, which was fine with him. All he remembered was being released from the nurse’s office and being told to tell his parents that he wasn’t to do anything strenuous for the next week.

As if his parents fucking cared.

“I-I understand, sir. I’ll get better-”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t. You’ve been playing volleyball for how long now? And the first-year girls are better than you are. Think about that for a while.”

The silence stretched out, save for the sounds of Mishima’s heavy breathing, stifling back his tears. “I-I just-”

A hand _smacks_ the side of his face, hard enough to make him stumble back a few feet. “I _told_ you,” Kamoshida growls, pulling himself to his full height, “I don’t want your damn excuses. What I _ would _ be okay with though, is an apology for falsely accusing me with those Amamiya and Sakamoto brats.”

_ Ah, so that’s what this was all about_. “I-I’m not going to,” Mishima hissed. “You’re a _ monster _ and people deserve to know.”

He half-expected Kamoshida to be angry at his words, but the coach just laughed. “You think people don’t _know_? How many times have you told your parents? They’ve told me the lies you spread. They don’t believe you.”

The words cut ice-cold daggers into his heart. Why would his parents tell Kamoshida what he said, why would they_ care _-

“Here’s what’s so funny,” Kamoshida continued, “the reason I won’t get fired is that I get _results_. The volleyball team went from last place in the lowest divisions to _first _in the _highest_. You call my methods cruel, inhumane, whatever. But I bring in the money, and that’s all these people care about.”

Mishima took a step back, trying to grab for the door handle. This was getting dangerous, Kamoshida was really angry-

A thick hand clamped around his shoulder, jerking him forward. “Leaving so soon?” he asked, “We’ve barely gotten started.”

* * *

A half an hour later, Mishima woke up on the floor of the PE faculty office. His head spun when he tried to sit up, so he stayed on the floor for another few minutes. 

Thankfully, Kamoshida seemed to have already left, though the automatic lights were still on, so he couldn’t have left more than a minute or two ago. He could still come back.

Pain throbbed in his head, in his chest, his ankle. He blinked back the hurt, trying to remember what had happened. Blocking technique, he remembered that much, but the rest was too hazy, it scared him. Did he have brain damage? It sounded like he had brain damage.

Though he still felt so dizzy that he wanted to throw up, he managed to heave himself to his hands and knees. Nothing there was more painful than he was used to. Alright.

With shaky, bruised hands, he clamped around the edge of one of the teachers’ desks and pushed himself to his feet. The world turned grey and cold, and the wind whistled through his hair as he felt himself collapse back onto the ground. _ Fuck, this is bad,_ he thought blearily. He might have to go to the hospital. He couldn’t walk there, but he didn’t have a phone to call the ambulance.

The train, then.

After another few seconds on the floor, Mishima managed to roll himself over to his stomach, then pushed himself to sit back on his heels.

His right ankle screamed in pain at the movement, and it took all his willpower and measured breaths not to give into his rapidly greying vision. After a few more moments, he shifted to a kneeling position and allowed himself to adjust to the altitude. He always hated this slow going, but he’d rather be anywhere than in the PE office.

Just as he was preparing to get to his feet, a knock at the door startled him. “Uh-uh, yeah?” He called out, hoping Kamoshida hadn’t decided to come back. Though, why would he knock-

“I heard something fall. Are you okay?” That voice… Amamiya? What was he still doing here? A glance at the clock told him it was almost seven at night. 

“I-I’m fine. I just- I’m fine,” he replied, hoping the panic wasn’t too evident. 

The door slid open, revealing a slightly disheveled-looking Ren. Their eyes locked, and something like concern flitted over the delinquent’s face. “You don’t look fine.” Then he glanced around. “You’re in Kamoshida’s office. Did he do that to you?”

Mishima started to shake his head, but the motion made him dizzy and he felt himself list to the side. Before he could catch himself, however, a thin hand wrapped around his upper arm, straightening him up.

Serious grey eyes blinked down at him from behind his glasses. Weird, that a high-schooler with a criminal record would look like such a nerd. But it’s always the quiet ones. “You’re really badly hurt.”

Mishima forced out a sarcastic laugh. “No shit. Just give me some time and I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stay.”

Ren’s hand didn’t move from his shoulder. “No, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone. Here, I have a friend who’s a doctor. She can-”

“I don’t need your _pity_. It’s all your fault that this is _happening_. If you had just kept your fucking head down, next year I’d be free from that jackass and could live out the rest of my life forgetting he existed. But now I’ll be expelled with you and Sakamoto because I _ dared _ stand against him.” Anger fueled his words, and he slapped Ren’s hand away. “I survived a whole year and a half without you, I could have survived one more.”

Amamiya looked at the ground. “You saw the details of my arrest, didn’t you?”

Mishima blinked at him, more surprised at the change of subject than his contrite tone. “Wh-no, I saw that you had been arrested for _assaulting _a man. There’s really no need to explain that.”

“Of course,” the delinquent sighed, playing with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face, “they covered up- A man was trying to force himself on a woman. I stepped in, pulled the man away. He tripped and fell. Hardly assault, right? But he was some famous guy, he had friends in the police force. So I was labeled dangerous.”

There was a short pause. “I see how people treat me here. They think I’ll attack them, they think I’m wild. But… but I saved that woman. The famous guy? He’s like Kamoshida- thinks he can do whatever he wants because he’s got power. And those that stand in their way? Yeah, they get punished. But I would do it again and again and again if it meant I could help people.” 

Amamiya’s grey eyes bored into Mishima’s. He was so damn _serious _all the time. But also… sincere. After years of dealing with his parents and Kamoshida, he fancied himself someone who could read others well. He had to, to survive. And the delinquent looked… well, for some godforsaken reason, Mishima believed him.

“I’ve tried standing against Kamoshida. You saw all the good it did.”

A faint smile ghosted over Ren’s lips. “There are more ways to stand up to him than physically.”

Mishima scoffed. “What, like a petition?”

“You’re very adept with computers,” Amamiya said, “you managed to spread the rumors of my record with the entire school without giving away who did it.”

“Yeah, and even that I fucked up, ‘cause you’re innocent or whatever.”

“I mean, true. But not where I was going. If you could spread my rumors, imagine what you could do with Kamoshida.”

Mishima felt like his world had been flipped upside down. It was- that was so obvious. He had plenty of proof, he could spread it to newspapers and parents, and talk shows, he could publicize the brutal workout routines and even more brutal punishments…

“But first, you need a doctor. You look awful.”

“Wow, thanks,” Mishima muttered, though he accepted Amamiya’s hand to get up.

Again, the world blurred around him, and he missed whatever sassy response the delinquent could come up with, but strong arms wrapped around him, supporting him, though the one at his side dug into his bruises, and the one around his hand tugged on his sore shoulder. 

He blinked, and they were sitting on a bench outside the school gates. Amamiya was fiddling with his phone but glanced over when he caught sight of the movement. “My doctor friend will be here soon. Fair warning, she’s a little… odd.”

Before Mishima could ask exactly what that meant, a woman with platform sandals cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘odd’, my little guinea pig?”

Ah, that explained that.

Amamiya gave her a noncommittal shrug. “You don’t act much like a doctor,” as if that somehow made him stop digging the hole.

Mishima blinked dazedly at the woman. She _was _wearing a lab coat, though pretty much nothing else about her punk-rock look made him think she was a doctor. But she was pretty though, in that ‘older woman’ kind of way. 

“Is this the guy you were telling me about?” She asked, crouching in front of him and waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah. He had a bad fall.”

The doctor scoffed. “Bad fall and more than a few punches. I don’t make it a habit to clean kids up after a fight.”

Amamiya shifted in his seat, then glanced at Mishima for permission. “It… it wasn’t a fight. At least, it wasn’t two-sided.”

Her eyes flashed over to meet Amamiya’s then she sighed. “Brain injuries are always dicey. I don’t see anything worrisome now, but that can change in a matter of minutes. I suggest going to a hospital and getting some tests done there.”

Mishima’s heart sank. He just wanted to go home, go to bed, and sink into his covers so he’d never have to move again, so he could just disappear off the face of the Earth-

“Alright, thanks Tae,” Amamiya replied. 

The doctor sighed and straightened, remarkably graceful in her high heels. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, just be careful. I mean it when I say head injuries are nothing to take lightly. Take care of yourself, kid.”

Mishima tried to manage a nod, but then the world turned all swimmy and he had to measure out his breathing to keep from passing out. 

“Yeah, okay, that’s not good. My car’s back that way, I’m taking you there myself. Can he walk?” Tae asked.

Even though he figured it would end poorly, Mishima stood up, blinking back the spots and keeping his weight off his ankle. Thankfully, Amamiya’s hands wrapped around his shoulders helping to keep him upright. 

“That answers that question,” Tae shrugged. “It’s just this way.”

* * *

The hospital pronounced that they could detect no major brain injuries, but his ankle was a different story.

Tae just dropped them off - apparently, she wasn’t quite welcome at the hospital which made Mishima wonder - but Amamiya stayed with him through the entire process. It was a little weird to sit in a hospital bed with an elevated ankle while he sat in the corner doing his homework. 

However, eventually midnight came and went, and Amamiya had to return home. Not that Mishima minded. Right now, he needed some alone time.

***

Mishima found himself released the next day with a pair of crutches and assurances that since no head injuries presented themselves in the last twenty-four hours, that he would be perfectly fine on his own. 

It was too late in the day to go to school, so he made his way back home. As usual, his parents weren’t there, so he made himself comfortable on the couch. He had some time to think about how he would bring down Kamoshida, and he had plenty of ideas.

* * *

The next day Mishima hobbled into the school later than usual. He had stayed up late the night before, compiling what little proof he had of Kamoshida’s shitty behaviors, and he still wasn’t used to the godforsaken crutches. 

“-n’t believe that they’re threatening him!”

“Who do you think put them up?’

“...seriously, it’s just a prank guys, Kamoshida’s not some kind of perv…”

The entire atmosphere of the school seemed oppressive. People gathered around the various message boards strewn around the school, huddling and gossiping amongst each other. Curiously, Mishima nudged himself towards a crowd to get a look.

_ Sir Suguru Kamoshida, the utter bastard of lust, _

_ We know how shitty you are and that you put your twisted desires on students who can’t fight back. That’s why we decided to steal away those desires and make you confess your sins. This will be done tomorrow, so we hope you will be ready. _

_ From, _

_ The Phantom Thieves of Hearts. _

He stared at the gaudy red card in confusion before a loud bellow broke through the faint chatter. “What is the meaning of this?!” Kamoshida demanded, stomping up from behind. A thick hand clamped over his shoulder and dragged him off balance. 

Mishima fell back with a grunt, crutches clattering to the ground beside him. The sound drew Kamoshida’s attention. “You,” he hissed, grabbing the boy roughly by the upper arm and hauling him up, “you did this, didn’t you?” 

But before Mishima could defend himself, the coach pushed him back and stormed off. If not for the girl next to him catching him he would have fallen. He flashed her a relieved smile. Once he was stable on his foot, she scooped up his crutches and held them out.

“Thanks, uh, Takamaki-san, right? You… you’re Shiho’s friend.”

The girl glanced at him in surprise. “Oh! Yeah. Um, yeah. To both,” she replied. “But, uh, so what do you think of these ‘Phantom Thief’ people?”  
Mishima hummed. “I mean, if they can make Kamoshida repent or whatever, I think they’re worth supporting. As long as they’re not, like, murderers or something.”

Takamaki looked a little downcast. “Yeah, let’s hope.”

* * *

Mishima filed into the gym for the impromptu morning assembly. He wondered if it was about that calling card Kamoshida had received a few days ago. He hadn’t been seen since, so… so was he dead? Did the Phantom Thieves kill him?

Principle Kobayakawa cleared his throat from the podium. “As you all know, a tragic event took place the other day,” he announced.

_ Oh_. This was about Shiho. 

The principle blabbered on about the importance of life and living for yourself, but Mishima couldn’t help but despise every word coming out of that man’s mouth. He knew what Kamoshida was doing but did nothing for it. All these damn adults-

“Mr. Kamoshida, what’s the-” Principle Kobayakawa looked toward the edge of the stage, where the volleyball coach was standing morosely.

“I...have been reborn. That is why I will confess everything to you all,” Kamoshida replied. 

The words sent a confused ripple of gossip throughout the gym. No doubt everyone was thinking, _ is this it? Did the Phantom Thieves do it_?

Mishima watched with bated breath as Kamoshida revealed everything. _ Everything_. What he had done to Sakamoto, to Amamiya, the pressure he put on Takamaki, what he did to _ Shiho_, and what he did to _him_. He felt the eyes of the gym on him as Kamoshida pleaded for his forgiveness for the physical violence and verbal assault.

_ They did it, _ Mishima thought. The Phantom Thieves changed Kamoshida somehow. They convinced him he was wrong. And if they could do that for their school, what else could they do?

At the corner of his vision, he caught sight of Sakamoto high-fiving a mildly enthusiastic-looking Amamiya. An idea began to churn in the back of his mind. Amamiya’s words from a few days previous came back: ‘_ But I would do it again and again and again if it meant I could help people’. _He knew he couldn’t do what the Phantom Thieves did. But if what he suspected was true and Amamiya had a role in this, then… then they needed to share their gifts with the world. They could give help to so many people if word of their deeds would just spread. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have much hope. Miracles like this tend to be one-hit wonders, but maybe if someone pushed for them, if someone gave space for those in need, this whole thing could grow.

Maybe, he could do something amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you just wanna curl up in a ball and sleep but you also wanna do ink/whumptober... t-.-t


End file.
